CHAPTER VII
A LONG RACE BEGUN
The circus remained two days longer in Benton, but there were certainyouths who kept away from it. A solemn oath of secrecy bound them as tothe reason why. Only Tim Reardon and Joe Warren couldn't resist thetemptation of stealing in among the wagons and watching for theappearance of Danny O'Reilly in all the glory of his paint and feathers;and, when they beheld a crowd of farmers gaze upon him admiringly as hepassed in for the Wild West performance, they nearly choked to deathwith laughter, and couldn't have run if he had espied them.
"Guess we won't get licked, after all," whispered Little Tim. "Not if wekeep dark, we won't. Danny's going on with the show up the state. Hetold Jimmy Nolan, his cousin, and Jimmy told me. 'You'd never guessed hewasn't an Injun,' says Jimmy to me, 'unless I'd told yer. Don't you everlet on,' he says--and I like to died--hello, who's that coming?"
Looking in the direction pointed out by Tim Reardon, Young Joe beheld anold wagon, drawn by a lean horse, the seat of the wagon nearly bentdown to the axles on one side by the weight of the occupant.
"Well, if it isn't Colonel Witham!" exclaimed Young Joe. "Didn't supposehe'd pay to go to a circus."
It seemed, however, that Colonel Witham had no immediate intention ofentering the main tent, for he proceeded to walk along the line ofsmaller pavilions, where the side-shows proclaimed their many andmonstrous attractions. The canvas of one of these presently attractedthe colonel's attention, for he paused in front of it and stood studyingit contemplatively.
Little Tim and Young Joe, stealing around in the rear of Colonel Witham,beheld the object of his curiosity. There was a full length portrait onthe canvas, painted in brilliant colours, of a woman standing before anurn from which vague vapours were arising. She held in one hand a wand,with which she seemed in the act of conjuring forth a shadowy figurefrom within the vapours. A little black satanic imp peered coyly overher right shoulder. The inscription beneath her portrait read:
Lorelei, the Sorceress. Your Future Foretold--All Mysteries Explained--Your Fate Read by the Stars--Hidden Things Revealed--Lost Property Recovered.
Something about the gaudy and pretentious sign seemed to fascinateColonel Witham. He walked past it once, reading it out of the corner ofone eye; but he went only a little way beyond, then turned and stoppedand surveyed it once more. He edged up to the canvas, sidled into theentrance and disappeared.
"Cracky!" cried Young Joe. "Isn't that rich? The colonel's going to havehis fortune told. Wow! wow! Suppose he's fallen in love?"
"Not much," said Little Tim. "He wants to know where he's lost a dollar,probably. Hello, Allan, come over here."
Little Tim, in high glee, bawled out a greeting to a comrade, AllanHarding, and conveyed the great news. The three stood awaiting thecolonel's reappearance.
If they could have seen within the tent, they might have beheld ColonelWitham, seated at a table upon which a light was thrown, its objectbeing not so much to illuminate the occupant of the seat as to obscurehis vision. It served to render more shadowy a vague figure thatoccupied a little booth across which a gauze curtain hung, and fromwhich a voice now issued:
"I see a dusty road, with fields running back from it," droned thevoice, with mysterious monotony, while the person behind the veilscrutinized keenly the figure and dress of her visitor. "I see a greathouse a little way back from the road, with--with what seems to be aporch in front."
"Yes, yes," said Colonel Witham, beginning to be impressed, ignoring thefact that his person indicated his occupation and that the descriptionwould answer almost every farmhouse along the road from Benton.
"I see a figure sitting on the porch, and it resembles--yes, it isyourself. You are thinking. There is something that you want to know.You do not seem to be in love--"
Colonel Witham snorted--and the hint to the sorceress was sufficient.
"The stars are very clear on that point," continued the voice. "Yourmind is bent on more serious things. You have a business matter thattroubles you."
"Wonderful!" ejaculated Colonel Witham, under his breath. "What else doyou see?" he inquired, eagerly.
"Let me read the stars," continued the voice. "I see what looks likeanother man."
"Yes, yes," said Witham, forgetting in his eagerness that he had comein, half skeptical, and meant to reveal nothing on his own part. "Is hehiding anything?"
"Wait--not so fast," replied the voice. Then, after a pause, "No, he isnot hiding anything."
Colonel Witham's jaw dropped.
"But," continued the sorceress, "there is something strange about him.Wait, until I ask the spirits. They will tell something. Yes, he hassomething already hidden. It is secreted. He has hidden something away.Let me see, are they papers? They look like papers, but it is vague--"
"And where are they hidden?" cried Colonel Witham, rising from his seateagerly.
"The spirits will not say," answered the voice. "They seem to be angryat something. Ah, they say they must have more money."
"But I paid at the door," protested Colonel Witham.
"Yes, but they are angry," said the voice. "They are angry at me fortaking so little for all I impart. They will have two dollars more,or--yes, they are already disappearing--quick, or you will be too late."
Colonel Witham groaned in anguish; slowly produced a shabby wallet, tooktherefrom two greasy dollar bills and passed them across the table to anoutstretched hand.
"Ah, they are coming back," said the voice. "Another moment and it wouldhave been too late. Now the stars are coming out clearer also. What isit they tell? Ah, they say--listen--they say the man has concealedpapers that are wanted by you--concealed them _in his place ofbusiness_."
"Yes, yes, but where?" cried Colonel Witham. "In the safe, or around themachinery--where-abouts?"
"Listen," said the voice. "The spirits seem angry again--"
"Let 'em be angry!" bellowed Colonel Witham. "They'll not get anothercent, confound 'em!"
"Softly, softly," said the voice soothingly, "The spirits are greatlyagitated by loud words. And the stars are growing dim once more. Thespirits want no more money. They will tell you all; that is, all youneed to know. Listen: They say you will find the papers. But you must bepatient. They are hidden in a building where there are wheels turningrapidly. And the spirits say the noise hurts their ears. They say,though, that you must wait a little while, and then you will go into thebuilding and find them. That is all now. You will certainly get them.The spirits are gone. They will not come back again to-day."
The voice became silent; and Colonel Witham sat sheepishly in his chair.Then he arose and walked slowly to the doorway. Had he been fooled? Hedid not know. It was certainly strange: how the voice had described hishotel--a big house with a porch--and he looking out--and the otherman--the man that had hidden the papers. No, there was somethingremarkable about it all. He would surely get them. Colonel Withamemerged from the tent.
A chorus of three young voices greeted him:
"Hello, Colonel Witham, been having your fortune told? Tell us what thewitch said, will you, colonel?"
The colonel, gazing at the grinning faces of Tim and Joe Warren andAllan Harding, flushed purple and raised his cane, wrathfully.
"You little ras--" he began, but bethought himself and halted. "Ho, ho,"he said, looking half ashamed. "That was only a joke. Just took anotion to see how funny it was. Here boy, give these lads some peanuts."The colonel produced a dime from his trousers pocket.
"Say, Tim," said Joe Warren some moments later, "I guess the colonel isin love, after all. Ten cents' worth of peanuts! My, he's got it bad.Let's go tell Henry Burns."
A day or two following, toward the end of a pleasant afternoon, TimReardon and his friend, Allan Harding, sat by the shore of Mill streamwatching a small fleet of canoes engaged in active manoeuvring. It wasat a point on the stream opposite the scene of the execution of thegreat Indian chief, where the small cabin stood. Back from this a
fewrods was an old barn, of which the boys of Benton rented a small sectionfor the storage of canoes and paddles.
There were four canoes now upon the stream, each containing twooccupants. The eight canoeists were stripped for the work, showing agorgeous, if somewhat worn, array of sleeveless jerseys. The boys werebronzed and healthy looking. Back and forth they darted across thestream from shore to shore; or again, tried short spurts up and downstream.
"What are they going to do, Tim?" inquired his companion.
"Don't you know?" queried Tim, by way of reply. "Say, it's going to bethe dandiest race ever. Start to-morrow morning right after breakfastfrom in front of the cabin, and go straight up stream all day long. Onlywhen Jack blows the horn at noon everybody's got to stop and go ashoreand eat something. Then they start again when Jack blows for 'em to. Andpaddle like everything all the afternoon till six o'clock. Then stopagain when Jack blows, and leave every canoe just where it is.
"Then they get together and pitch tents and camp all night, and raceback next day. And everybody has got to come up to where the first canoeis before they turn back. Henry Burns, he got it up. I'll bet he andJack win the race, too."
"What'll you bet?" demanded Allan Harding, who had been eying thecanoeists sharply.
"Thousand dollars," replied Tim, promptly, shoving his grimy hands intopockets that contained several marbles, a broken-bladed knife and othervaluables.
"Well," replied Allan Harding, cautiously, "mebbe you're right, but Iguess those fellows in the green canoe stand a good chance. Look howstrong they are. Say, who are they, anyway?"
"Hm! Jack Harvey's stronger'n any of them," asserted Jim loyally, eyinghis stalwart friend, as a canoe passed containing Harvey and HenryBurns. "Those other chaps are Jim and John Ellison. They live up on thefarm above here. That's what makes 'em strong. But you know Jack. Didn'the make us stand around, aboard the _Surprise_?"
"Well, who's going to win, Tim?" called Tom Harris, as he skilfullyturned the canoe paddled by himself and Bob White, to avoid collisionwith one which held George and Arthur Warren.
"'Spose you think you are," answered Tim, "because you and Bob know howto paddle best. Look out for Jack, though."
Tom Harris laughed. "You'd bet on Jack if he had a broken arm," he said.
"Count us last, I guess," said George Warren, good-naturedly. "We'repretty new at it. Going in for the fun of it. Hello, who's this coming?"
"Look out, Jim, it's Benny," exclaimed the elder of the Ellisonbrothers.
"I don't care. I won't stand any nonsense from him," replied hisbrother, a handsome young fellow, athletic, but slightly smaller thanthe other.
Just what he meant by this remark was best explained when BenjaminEllison, strolling lazily down to the shore, paused in the process ofdevouring a huge piece of molasses cake and said, in a sneering tone:
"My, Johnnie, don't you and Jim look fine though, with city chaps?What'll Uncle Jim say when I tell him--"
He didn't get much further, for a canoe shot in to shore, and from thebow of it sprang John Ellison. He seized his cousin by the shoulder.
"You will tell tales, will you?" he cried.
"Let me alone," replied the other, striving to shake off John Ellison'sgrasp, but failing. Then he added, as the other canoes came in to shoreand the boys stepped out of them. "Can't you take a joke?"
"No, not when you've done the same kind of a thing before," exclaimedJohn Ellison. "Come on, fellows, in with him."
Ready for any kind of a rough joke, several of the canoeists laid handson the unfortunate Benjamin.
"Most too many against one," remarked Henry Burns, quietly. "Better lethim go."
"No, he's got to be ducked," insisted John Ellison, whose anger wasaroused.
"Well, only a little one," assented Harvey, grinning good-naturedly. Sothey held the luckless youth heels over head and plunged his headbeneath the surface up to his coat-collar. He was sputtering wrathfullyas they lifted him out again.
"Going to tell on us?" cried John Ellison.
Benjamin Ellison glared at his cousin, doubtfully.
"Once more," said John Ellison; and they put the victim's head underagain.
He wasn't hurt and his clothes were still dry; but he was whining, andhe begged for mercy after the second ducking.
"I won't tell," he said.
"Honest?"
"Honest Injun!"
They let him go, and he departed hastily up through the field.
"Tell, will he?" queried Harvey, as Benjamin departed.
"Guess not," replied John Ellison. "He's got enough. He'd like to,though. He don't like you city fellows any better than father does. Hehasn't got anything against you, either. He's too lazy to paddle. Comeon, Jim, let's follow him up. Well be on hand to-morrow, if there's notrouble."
The brothers took up their canoe and left the party.
"They're all right, those Ellison chaps," said Harvey; "all exceptBenny. He's no good. Come on, fellows, let's lock up, and no walking into town, remember. Running's good for the wind. Coming along, Tim?"
"No, I'm going to sleep in the cabin," replied Tim Reardon, "and see thestart in the morning."
"Guess I will, too," said Allan Harding. So the two remained, while thetroop of canoeists set off soon after, on the run back to Benton.
The following morning, the first of a double holiday, came in bright andclear. Little Tim and his companion were early astir, and cooking a messof oatmeal from the cabin's scanty stores over a cracked sheet ironstove.
"There they come," cried Tim presently, as the sounds of fresh, boyishvoices came from outside. "Hooray! I wish 'twas a yacht race, though.Wouldn't I go along?"
By nine o'clock the four canoes were fully equipped, drawn up in lineoff the cabin, and the canoeists, paddles in hand, arms bared, andsweaters tied around the thwarts, were ready to start. Jim and JohnEllison were there, a sturdy pair of farm lads; Jack Harvey, apparentlymuch over-matching his mate in physique, but with something in theslighter figure of Henry Burns that indicated resource and stayingpowers; Tom and Bob, old and hardened canoeists; and George and ArthurWarren, clean-cut and athletic.
"Ready for the horn!" called Harvey, holding his paddle in his righthand and a long, tin horn in the other.
"All ready!" sang out the canoeists.
Harvey put the horn to his lips and blew a loud, full blast. The paddlesstruck the water with a vigour, and the race was begun.
The three canoes shot ahead of Harvey's at the start, owing to theslight delay caused him in dropping the horn.
"Let them lead, Jack," said Henry Burns, quietly. "It's a two days'race. Take it easy."
"That's so," said Harvey, half pausing in a stroke in which he hadstarted to exert his strength to the utmost. "Lucky I've got you. Youalways keep cool. How do you manage to do it?"
Henry Burns smiled, but made no reply. Instead, he pointed ahead towhere the Ellison brothers, putting their strength into their work, wereshowing several rods of clear water between them and the two nearestcanoes, which were going along side by side.
"They've got the race won in the first five minutes," said Henry Burns."See Tom and Bob take it easy till they get limbered up."
The two thus indicated were, indeed, setting an example worthy to befollowed. They had started off at an easy, regular stroke, one whichthey could keep up for hours and increase when they should see fit. Theywere paying no attention to the leading canoe, but were exchanging aword or two with the Warrens, who were striving to imitate their courseand pace.
The first mile and a half that intervened between the starting point andthe Ellison dam was quickly covered. The Ellison boys, still leading,were out on shore and carrying their canoe up the bank when the otherswere still some rods away. It was a steep pitch of the shore, and Tomand Bob, when they came to it, took it leisurely, saving their wind. Theothers followed, in like fashion. Harvey and Henry Burns were the lastto make the portage.
Once around the dam, on higher level, the canoes
were launched again,and the race continued.
A little way up the shore from the dam, Tom and Bob and the Warren boys,some distance ahead of the rear canoe, saw an odd little figure swingingand swaying in the top of a birch tree overhanging the water. TheEllison boys had passed her unnoticed. Her bit of skirt fluttering, andher hair waving, showed that the occupant of this novel swing was agirl.
All at once, to their horror, she seemed to slip and fall. Down she camefrom her perch, struck the water with a splash and sank beneath thesurface.
Tom and Bob, driving their paddles into the water with desperate energy,darted on ahead of the Warren boys, who bent to the paddles and shotafter them. The two canoes fairly flew through the water, while the fouroccupants gazed anxiously ahead over the surface for signs of the girl'sreappearance.
To their amazement, a laughing voice hailed them most unexpectedly, fromshore. They looked toward the bank, where, just emerging, dripping wet,the girl was waving a hand to them.
"How was that for a dive?" she called, pushing her wet hair back fromher eyes, and looking at them roguishly.
"Bully!" exclaimed George Warren, wiping the drops of perspiration fromhis forehead. "We thought you had fallen. My, but it gave me a scare."
The girl's eyes danced with merriment. Then espying the other canoecoming up, she called, "Hello, you back again? Look out Ellison don'tcatch you."
"It's Bess Thornton," said Henry Burns, and the two boys called out agreeting to her.
"Say, do you know Tim Reardon?" she asked abruptly.
"Why, yes," answered Henry Burns. "Should say we did."
"Well," said Bess Thornton, "tell him you saw me dive from the tree,will you? He didn't think I dared, when I told him." Then she added,laughing, "Don't get rained on again. But if you do, remember the mill."And she danced away, wringing the water from the hem of her shortskirt.
"Confound her!" exclaimed Harvey. "Look at the start Jim and John havegot. Come on, Henry."
They pushed on again, Tom and Bob soon taking the lead of the three rearcanoes, with a strong steady stroke that meant business. The first canoewas by this time a quarter of a mile ahead.
The Rival Campers Ashore; or, The Mystery of the Mill Page 7